


I've got my rock moves

by sirona



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, M/M, Photography, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-13
Updated: 2011-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-26 01:19:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirona/pseuds/sirona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no one quite like Danny -- not that Steve knows. It's irresistible. Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/276806">Hold It (Just Like That)</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've got my rock moves

**Author's Note:**

> Because everyone asked, and, er. I couldn't stop thinking about it once I started. So there. Seriously very NC-17, oh god. I've kind of fallen in love with this verse a little. There may or may not be more of it in the future.

Steve fidgets, his whole body itching with anticipation. He keeps stalking the clock with his eyes; he’s distracted, they’ve had to start this song twice over for him to focus, it’s _ridiculous_. No one person should have this kind of effect on him.

But he can’t, he can’t fucking stop thinking about that photographer, Danny, huge sturdy shoulders despite his height, blond hair tidy yet flashy on top of his head, strong, capable hands manhandling his camera the way Steve wishes Danny would manhandle _him_. He’s never seen a photographer dress like that, striped button-down shirt hugging his frame, open at the neck to allow a peek at light chest hair and more delicious skin, neatly tucked into a pair of pants to whom Steve wanted to buy dinner for the service they were doing to Danny’s anatomy. That ass, he hasn’t stopped thinking about it all fucking night, it’s beyond embarrassing. He’d tossed and turned for hours, rock hard as if he was sixteen again, the thought of Danny bending down like he had done that afternoon, only this time just for Steve…

He’s getting hard even now, just thinking about it, despite jerking off in the shower not four hours ago to thoughts of Danny’s shoulders propping his thighs open while Danny takes him into his mouth. Ridiculous. Insupportable. Fucking inevitable.

He slogs through another hour of rehearsals and two more of recording, the only highlight that of everyone saying how he sounds like sex on legs singing the song they’re working on. He daren’t tell them it isn’t _the song_ that’s making him sound like that, although from the smirk on Jenna’s face he thinks she at least knows exactly what’s going on. He thanks everything holy again that she is utterly loyal to him, or she would have made his life a living hell ages ago.

At last, _at last_ they’re done, five o’clock coming and going, pushing six as they troop out of the studio and into the fresh evening air of early November. Chin claps him on the shoulder and splits, a dinner date with Malia he’s been talking about all day; and then it’s just him and Cath, who is smiling happily down at her Blackberry, fingers flying over the keys so quickly that Steve can’t follow. She hits ‘send’ and looks up at him like the cat who just got texted to meet the canary.

“Right, I’m off! I’m going to make full use of the day off tomorrow, I don’t mind telling you.”

Steve snorts. “Say no more. Give my best to Nick, tell him not to wear you out so much that you fall asleep on your drums again.”

“Ha fucking ha,” she says, scowling at him, but she’s laughing, too. “We’ll see what you’ll be like when you get in the day after.”

Steve considers demanding to know what she means, but he is well aware that he might make an even bigger idiot of himself if he does, because his bandmates aren’t idiots – he’s been distracted at best and downright daydreaming at worst, all day long.

“Gentlemen don’t kiss and tell,” he says primly instead. Cath laughs in his face.

“No problem for you, then, is it?”

He waves her away, rolling his eyes. He heads towards his truck, swings inside, stops for a moment to check his pockets before he sets off for Danny’s studio. Condoms, check. Slick, check. He’s not in the habit of fooling himself, or misreading others. Danny wanted him last night, and unless he’d changed his mind in the past 24 hours (he hopes to god Danny hasn’t), they won’t be doing much picture watching.

He tries not to get desperately hard on his way over, and mostly fails – because he can’t get Danny out of his mind, the way he moved, the way he talked, the way he watched Steve like Steve was something he wanted and intended to get. It sets fire to his blood, makes his skin feel flushed, too tight, so oversensitive that just the soft cotton of his clothes rubbing over his nipples makes him moan softly every time he shifts. This is. He doesn’t even know how the hell he could be this aroused by just the thought of something, of Danny getting his hands on him. God, he’s going to make a fool of himself. He has to get a grip.

The studio parking lot, when he shuts off the engine and climbs out of his car, is empty and quiet, just like the building itself. A soft light shines through the huge windows, cheerful and welcoming. Someone is inside, but they are not working. Steve’s entire body breaks out in goosebumps at the thought of Danny, alone in there, waiting for him.

He thinks about knocking, but the door’s unlocked when he tries it, and so he slips inside, taking a moment to flip the lock before he walks down the corridor leading to the open space of the set. It’s vast and echoing, lit by a few lights on the floor, flooding the space with golden light that makes everything shine softly.

“Hello?” he calls, not as loudly as he would during the day. “Danny? It’s Steve.”

No answer; and then Danny’s voice floats out from the back of the set, leading Steve’s eyes to a small doorway on the far side, open wide.

“Through here,” Danny calls. “Come on in.”

Steve makes his way across, every cell humming with anticipation of seeing Danny again. He rounds the corner, and there Danny is, perfectly turned out in a yellow shirt that makes Steve’s insides clench with want, sitting in front of a row of screens with large lit panels on the wall behind them, filled with stills from yesterday’s photoshoot.

“Hey, Steve, good to see you again,” Danny says, turning his head to look at Steve properly, a smile on his face that reaches all the way to his pale blue eyes and makes them crinkle in the corners. It’s… enchanting.

“Hi,” Steve says dumbly, stricken speechless by just how fucking much he wants to walk over and drop to his knees in front of Danny, bury his face in his crotch and feel him harden against his lips.

Danny’s eyes darken the more they look at each other, bright smile slipping into something smaller, more suggestive, that makes Steve’s breath stutter in his throat.

After a long, long moment of their eyes holding, Danny looks down with a self-depreciating twist of his mouth.

“You wanted to see the photos, right? Well, come over and I’ll show you.”

He scoots to the side, giving Steve no option but to come closer and sit down in the chair Danny waves at. He’s not quite brave enough to say, ‘no, actually there are other things I’d much rather look at’, although _god_ does he want to.

Danny pulls up the shots on the screen, and Steve’s thoughts fade like mist on a sunny morning. He stares at himself, at this man who is him and yet isn’t; yes, he looks like himself, but fuck, Steve has _never_ seen a photograph of himself quite like this one before. He knows he’s photogenic; has known it all his life, ever since high school and the football team. But this—this sensual, sexual being, all coiled energy just waiting for the spark to ignite it – he can say for damn certain that no one has ever photographed him like this before. He wonders whether it’s Danny’s skill that has captured this side of him, or rather the circumstances of the shoot, the fact that all the way through it Steve had wanted to push the camera away and fall on Danny like a man starved, tug his shirt down, get at the skin beneath the collar, the hint that the open buttons had allowed. Had wanted to grab onto Danny’s muscled arms, bared by his upturned sleeves, and tug him closer, over him, feel Danny’s chest press him into the hard floor.

He licks his lips, mesmerized, when a small sound tears his attention away from the sight of himself eyefucking the viewer. He turns, catches Danny’s eyes before Danny can turn his head; they’re pools of black, all pupil, staring at Steve like it physically pains him to look away. Danny’s pink tongue flicks out, wetting his lower lip, and fuck, that’s it, _that’s it_ , Steve refuses to stall any longer.

He swoops forward and takes Danny’s lips with a moan he can’t hold back, presses closer, begging Danny to respond. And fuck, does Danny ever; there are hands fisting in Steve’s hair, tugging his head to the side, and Danny’s mouth is hard and demanding on his, not asking but taking, pushing his lips open and licking inside, not that Steve has any intention of stopping him. Danny’s tongue strokes along his and Steve whimpers; he needs this so fucking bad, he’s been thinking about this for hours and hours; he’s so tightly strung that the heel of Danny’s hand on him could bring him off right now.

He shifts in his seat, can’t stand the distance between them, wants Danny’s body against his immediately, sooner. Danny seems to agree, because he’s pulling Steve to standing and pushing him back, never letting their mouths separate, until Steve feels something soft nudge the back of his knees and sits down gratefully. Danny climbs right on top, and when he sits over Steve’s groin Steve moans long and hard into Danny’s mouth, hands scrambling to drag him closer. The heat of Danny’s body is everywhere, all around him, his scent intoxicating, something spicy and warm, making Steve’s eyes roll back into his head with need.

There’s a yank on his neckline, and before he can open his eyes he feels Danny’s lips on his neck, his collarbone; and then Danny bites down, and Steve has to clap a hand over his mouth not to bring the whole neighbourhood running.

“Jesus, Danny,” he pants, a growl in his voice he’s never heard before; he feels wild, feral, all the barriers he keeps between himself and the world torn to tatters. Danny looks up, dark eyes boring into his, and Steve can’t help the jerk of his hips as Danny pulls up his t-shirt, over his stomach, his chest, licks his lips and deliberately lowers his head to curl his tongue around a nipple.

“Oh god,” Steve groans, throwing his head back. Danny hums, pleased with the response; moves lower.

After untold minutes of this torture Steve lifts his lust-drugged head when Danny’s heat pulls back a little. Danny slides down to his knees before him, fingers closing over his belt buckle, teasing the strap open.

“I am going to blow you,” Danny tells him, voice dark and heavy with promise. “If you have a problem with that, now is the time to tell me.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve manages, staring down at the sight of Danny on his knees, hair wild, eyes intent; his stomach twitches when the backs of Danny’s fingers stroke against his skin.

Danny smirks. “Maybe later. If you’re good.”

Steve can’t actually speak, has no words left, can’t even think beyond “yes” and “now” and “please”. He’s never, there’s never been anyone like Danny, this force of nature, a personality that fills the room and dwarfs everyone around him. Steve has no choice, wants nothing more than to surrender to it and see where it’ll take him.

Danny tugs his jeans open, drags them down his thighs, closes his hot mouth around Steve’s length, still in his boxer-briefs. Steve moans brokenly, fingers clutching at Danny’s firm shoulder, feeling the muscles glide beneath the skin as Danny reaches for Steve’s shoes and tugs them off, tongue playing over the head of Steve’s cock. Steve is embarrassingly close, like the moment he feels Danny’s mouth on him properly he’s going to give it all up in an instant.

Danny seems to sense that, slows down until it’s just his lips rubbing against Steve’s cock through the cotton, breath curling through the damp fabric, keeping Steve on the edge. And then, oh god, finally, Danny’s fingers ease underneath the waistline, slide the briefs over Steve’s cock, taking care not to snap against the hard, needy flesh. Danny strips everything off him then, jeans, underwear, socks, climbs up Steve’s body to get rid of his t-shirt properly, dumps everything on the floor. Steve is stark naked before him, ass sat squarely on the cushions of Danny’s couch, thighs splayed and nipples hard and mouth slack, watching as Danny, still fully dressed, nudges between his legs, props them open with his shoulders like Steve fantasized about just this morning, spreads Steve shamelessly exposed for him as he holds Steve’s eyes and lowers his head.

He takes Steve in immediately, no teasing, no coy licks and kisses, just wet, smooth suction all the way down, until the head of Steve’s cock nudges against the back of Danny’s throat, and Steve can’t help it; he throws his head back and moans, long and low, sounding like nothing he has ever heard come out of his own mouth. “ _Danny_ ,” he says brokenly, begging, imploring. His hips twitch desperately, uselessly as he tries to feed more of his cock inside Danny’s mouth – but Danny’s hands hold him down, his shoulders take away all his leverage, and Steve can do nothing but shake, undone, desperate, so fucking turned of that he could cry with the need for release as Danny starts moving. He never even knew, he had no _idea_ it could feel like this, to be pinned down, nearly helpless as someone sucks you off until you literally scream. Which Steve does now, because Danny swallows around him, and fuck, _fuck_ , the feel of that, god, he can’t, he _can’t_ \--

He tries to warn Danny, tugs at his hair a little, weakly because he doesn’t really want Danny to move but it’s only polite—but Danny doesn’t move, doesn’t even show any signs of having noticed Steve’s feeble attempts to dislodge him – except for the way he hollows out his mouth and relaxes his throat, and lets Steve slip that fraction deeper inside, and, well.

Steve regains awareness slowly, chest feeling like it’s going to burst open with the need for oxygen, breath heaving, throat feeling raw from screaming. He is utterly boneless, draped against the cushions in a graceless sprawl, head still thrown back, neck exposed and twinging a little where Danny bit him earlier. He feels -- _amazing_ , loose, languid, thoroughly ravished. There is no way he’s moving any time soon.

Except to raise his head lazily and look down, into Danny’s darkly satisfied eyes, lips flushed red from Steve’s cock, a stray drop of come lingering by the corner of his mouth. As Steve watches, Danny runs his thumb over it and pushes it between his lips, licking it off. Steve—there’s no other word for it. Steve whimpers.

“Fuck,” he rasps, trying to stop his eyes from crossing. His cock twitches uselessly against his thigh, far, far too early for anything more to happen right now. Danny bites his lower lip at the sound of that, and that’s when Steve notices Danny’s right arm, muscles twitching as he—

“Oh, _fuck_.” Danny has his pants open, his cock pulled out, and is stroking himself off, wrist working, stomach straining as his hips twitch, and as Steve watches he screws his closed hand right over the flushed head.

“Look at me,” Danny demands, voice rough from the battering his throat took from Steve’s cock. Steve complies immediately, watching as Danny’s eyes fight to stay open; he bites his lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, wishing it was Danny’s cock instead.

Danny comes with a growl that sounds like it’s ripped out of him, striping his fist, Steve’s calves, some of it landing against the inside of Steve’s thigh. Steve shudders all over, wishes desperately he could get hard again so he could come just from that. But the reality is that it won’t happen for a while yet, and all he can do is pant and swear as Danny milks himself finished and slumps forward, forehead resting against Steve’s stomach, smearing sweat and come everywhere between them.

“God,” Danny croaks, trying to catch his breath. His weight is heavy and reassuring on top of Steve; but then Danny tries to stand and lets out a groan that’s more pain than pleasure, and Steve at last snaps to, catching Danny under his shoulders and around his sides as he drags him on top of the sofa, on top of him.

“Okay?” he says, feeling weirdly protective of this man he only met just over 24 hours ago.

“Mm, fine,” Danny mutters, tucking his face into Steve’s neck, just where the bite mark burns hot against Steve’s skin. He presses a kiss there; Steve feels it with every fiber of his being. _Please, god._

“So.”

Danny shifts a little, making himself more comfortable, and curls his arm around Steve’s side. “So.”

“So I was thinking, maybe, after we get cleaned up, dinner? And then another go? If—if you—“

He trails off hopelessly when Danny lifts his head, looks him right in the eye. Steve has never felt so exposed, and that includes Danny propping him open and blowing him just now. He tries not to squirm.

“You know,” Danny drawls, eyes softening and mouth curling up around the corners, “I’d like that. Yeah. I’d like that a lot.”

“Oh,” Steve says, swallows dryly. “Good,” he adds, trying for confident, like he always knew Danny would agree.

Danny watches him a moment longer, smile turning fond. “Yeah,” he says, amused and strangely reassuring. “It is.”

Steve smiles, lets his head fall back to hide it turning embarrassingly sappy. Right. Okay. He can do this thing – now that he knows he’s not alone in it.


End file.
